


Falling Into Nothing

by Fullmetalcarer



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Apocalypse is a manipulative bastard, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, given the age and power differential
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer
Summary: The boy looked up, his expression both fearful and yearning. He flexed his wings. The fading light slid over the metal feathers in liquid gold, glittered in his hazel eyes, gilded the soft planes of his face and sparked copper in his hair.En Sabah Nur no longer remembered being that young. He remembered wanting though. What it had been like to desire another. To be desired. He was, for all his power, still a creature of flesh, still tied to the material world and still capable of feeling desire.He felt it now.





	Falling Into Nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/gifts).



En Sabah Nur regarded his Horsemen.

The man sat apart from the others, orbited by scraps of metal, grieving his dead. All his dead. Fool. They were insects, all of them, even the mutants. Those too weak to protect themselves from the humans deserved to die. He should no more grieve them than he would grieve a crushed fly. His grief was useful though. It hollowed him out, left him an empty vessel, inhabited by ghosts of rage and pain, a channel through which En Sabah Nur's destiny would flow.

The woman and the girl spoke and watched and circled, each knowing the other for a force to be reckoned with, the girl gifted with greater raw power, the woman more skilled, more experienced.

The woman served En Sabah Nur because it suited her ends, because she respected his strength and because she had weighed his offer in the scales of her desires and found it good. He smiled to himself. He had been served by such before and a mercenary, paid in the coin for which she hungered, was a reliable servant. She would be loyal provided he rewarded her with power. En Sabah Nur's smile widened. He would give her more power than she could bear.

The girl longed to free her mutant sisters and brothers and admired the blue shapeshifter who fought for them. She was a storm goddess who had not yet learnt that lesser beings were not her family but her servants, to be used as she saw fit; to be used as En Sabath Nur intended to use her.

The boy tried to join in with their conversation and power-plays, but they paid him no mind, recognising the weakest among them. He thought to hide his terror with bravado and failed signally. En Sabah Nur gazed upon him and watched as the boy became aware of his gaze and blushed and faltered.

Why had he chosen the boy? The man and girl were powerful beyond measure. The woman was a scalpel, a finely honed blade to be wielded with precision. But the boy?

En Sabah Nur beckoned to him.

"Come, my Angel. Walk with me. Talk with me."

They walked out of the derelict warehouse and into the twilight of a forest clearing. The sky was cloudless and that elusive streak of subtle green divided blue above and gold below. The sunset reflected in the puddles on the overgrown track and a blackbird flashed past, calling out in alarm.

"Do your new wings please you, my child?"

"Yes . . . I . . . I mean . . . yes sir."

He was some twenty years of age, yet he spoke as hesitantly as a schoolboy addressing a stern master. Perhaps the woman had been right. Perhaps En Sabah Nur should have chosen another. No, he had made the right choice. There was something in the boy that made him worthy, something beyond his vainglorious foolishness. Potential. En Sabah Nur had felt it the first time he saw him.

"The markings I have put upon you suit you well."

Angel looked into En Sabah Nur's eyes and then down at the ground.

"I . . . I think they're beautiful . . . sir."

So much sweetness beneath that brash exterior.

"I think you are beautiful, Angel."

The boy looked up, his expression both fearful and yearning. He flexed his wings. The fading light slid over the metal feathers in liquid gold, glittered in his hazel eyes, gilded the soft planes of his face and sparked copper in his hair.

"Thank you, sir."

En Sabah Nur no longer remembered being that young. He remembered wanting though. What it had been like to desire another. To be desired. Many of his servants, including his Horsemen, had worshiped him with their bodies. It had been a great honour to be chosen to serve in that way. He had taken much pleasure from the flesh of his Chosen Ones and given them much pleasure in return. He was, for all his power, still a creature of flesh, still tied to the material world and still capable of feeling desire.

He felt it now.

He ran a finger across Angel's cheek, lazily drawing a glyph of ownership on the smooth, warm skin. The boy trembled beneath his hand, but did not look away.

"Now you are even more beautiful."

"Thank you, master."

His voice was husky and tremulous.

"You may call me by my name."

"Thank you, Apocalypse."

"I am not your apocalypse, my Angel. Call me En Sabah Nur."

"En Sabah Nur," whispered Angel. "My . . . my real . . . I mean . . . my other name is Warren."

He slid his hand from the boy's cheek to his throat. Warren's pulse jumped under his strong, blue fingers. En Sabah Nur pushed him back, hard and fast, Warren stumbling and fluttering his wings to try to keep his balance, until his feathers clattered against the wall of the warehouse. En Sabah Nur pressed against him and ground their hips together. Warren gasped.

"My Horseman, my Angel, my Chosen One, my Warren."

En Sabah Nur kissed him. Ah, the warmth and wetness of his mouth. The taste of youth and fear and need. Warren clutched at En Sabah Nur's sides and leant into the kiss. En Sabah Nur drew back, releasing him and stepping away. Warren looked bewildered.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Warren, no. I wish you to show yourself to me. Take off your armour."

Warren hesitated.

"You need have no shame before me. You are perfect in my eyes."

A slow, sweet smile curved the boy's full lips. He began shedding his armour, rushed and inelegant. There was something charming in his clumsy eagerness. It was quite dark now. When Warren stood naked before him, hands on hips, legs apart, brazen stance a poor disguise for the shyness that darkened his cheeks, he was a thing of silver moonlight and purple shadow. En Sabah Nur thought of the statues of the Greeks and how lovingly their sculptors had delineated the perfect athlete's form. Such was his Angel.

"You have a warrior's body."

En Sabah Nur moved close and ran his hands over palely gleaming muscle. Firm. Warm. Trembling with breath and blood. He drifted fingertips over Warren's nipples and belly. He kissed his shoulders and caressed the juncture of metal wings with skin and bone. He dug his fingers into Warren's buttocks and luxuriated in the sensation of dense yet supple flesh filling his palms. Warren moaned and pushed up against him as though trying to meld them into one. His Angel's cock was hard.

"Kneel before me."

Warren fell to his knees on the damp grass. The night air was cool and the boy's skin prickled with goose-flesh. En Sabah Nur stroked up the nape of his neck to the back of his head, where his hair was shaved short and felt like the pelt of some animal.

"I will be all things to you; Father, Brother, Lover, Saviour and Master. You will need no other save me."

"Yes, yes, only you," murmured Warren, hands clasped to En Sabah Nur's hips.

"Worship me, my son."

Warren fumbled at En Sabah Nur's armour and managed to free his erect cock. Clouds covered the moon and he could barely see the boy, but he could feel him. Cold fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, warm lips kissed along his length and a hot tongue licked him from root to tip. He rested his hands on the boy's head, so gently, so lightly.

"Oh, my child, my child, take me into yourself."

His Angel swallowed him down. Sweet suction and perfect pressure. He was skilled in this. He bobbed his head, his soft hair tangling under En Sabah Nur's fingers. The moon came out from behind the clouds and in her tender light he saw the boy's lips stretched around his cock, the gleam of his spit, the glisten of his tears and the worshipful expression on his lovely face as he gazed up at his Master.

En Sabah Nur thrust into his mouth, gently though, carefully. He took his time, revelling in the boy's worship, until his climax overtook him and he came down his Angel's throat. He was lost for a moment and leant against the wall looking up at the constellations as they trod their ancient paths. When he returned to himself, Warren had sat back on his heels and had his face pressed to En Sabah Nur's armoured thigh.

He pulled the boy to his feet and held him close and kissed him, tasting himself in Warren's mouth.

"Truly you are worthy of me, Warren. You pleased me greatly, now I shall please you."

He spat in his hand and grasped Warren's cock. It was as hard as his armour and damp with pre-come. He started stroking him, slowly, slowly, slowly.

"Yes, yes, please, oh, please, oh, daddy, please," gasped Warren.

En Sabah Nur worked the boy's cock with agonising gentleness, laughing softly at his increasingly desperate pleas. Warren quivered in his arms, a leaf in a gale. The breeze blew cold, but he was warm in En Sabah Nur's embrace. Clouds swept over the moon. They were bathed in darkness.

"Please, daddy, master, please."

He took pity on his Angel, upping his pace and tightening his grip. En Sabah Nur swiped his fingers through the remnants of his own come, slid his hand between Warren's buttocks, pressed a come-smeared finger into Warren's hole and trembled his fingertip against his prostate. The boy gave a choked moan and came over En Sabah Nur's fingers. He held him tight and kissed his hair as he shuddered, then stilled.

"I love you," whispered Warren.

En Sabah Nur smiled at him and stroked his face.

"Cleanse me and then cleanse yourself," he ordered.

Warren dipped cupped hands into a pool of clear rainwater and cleaned his Lord and himself. En Sabah Nur helped him don his armour. The boy shivered.

"You are cold. We will go inside. See, they have built a fire where you may warm yourself."

"Won't . . . won't they know what we've done?"

"What of it? You are my Chosen One. They will honour you for it."

Warren slipped chilled fingers into En Sabah Nur's warm hand.

"Will they?"

"They will."

He squeezed the boy's hand. He could scarcely see him in the darkness, but he caught a flicker of white teeth as his Angel smiled.

They walked back into the warehouse. The woman and girl sat by the fire. The man sat a little apart. All three looked up at En Sabah Nur and Angel. The firelight flickered in their eyes and their faces were full of the knowledge of what had passed between him and the boy. 

"Horsemen, this is my Chosen One, Warren, my Angel of Death, stand and do him honour."

All three stood, the man slowly as though rising through deep waters.

"Elizabeth, Psylocke, my Sword of War, bow your head and honour my Chosen One."

The woman bowed her head, the slightest of satirical smiles curving her lips.

"Ororo, Storm, giver and withholder of rain, bringer of plenty, bringer of Famine, honour him."

She did so, her smile warm and edged with concern.

"Henryk, Magneto, your metal will be as a Pestilence upon mine enemies, honour the Chosen One."

The man stared at him blankly and said, as though repeating by rote:

"My name isn't Henryk. My name is Magneto."

En Sabah Nur clenched his fists.

"Honour my Chosen One."

The man gazed unseeingly for a moment, then inclined his head, turned and walked away.

En Sabah Nur put his hand to Angel's face.

"See, your fellow Horsemen honour you and I honour you by marking you as the Chosen One."

He drew a symbol of desire upon Warren's brow. The boy held his head high - proud, strong, worthy - while the women watched.

He was distracted from his Angel by the man's conversation with the telepath. When he realised how great was the power the mind-speaker wielded - power he could enhance still further, power he could take unto himself - En Sabah Nur saw the keystone of his rule fall into place.

That was the beginning of the end.

At the end, when his Icarus fell from the sky in the stricken aircraft and was gone in flame and thunder, En Sabah Nur felt only scorn. The boy had been weak and unworthy after all. When his remaining Horsemen betrayed him - the woman through her inaction, the man in a torrent of metal, the girl with a river of lightnings - his belief in his own wisdom was shaken to the core. The woman was not loyal. The man was not hollow. The girl was not his servant.

He fought to ward off the tempest of metal and lightning and plasma. This battle was lost. He must escape and heal and choose new, worthy Horseman. He would return and they would all grovel before him, then perish in unimaginable pain. He opened the portal.

Then the red-haired girl-child walked out onto thin air and exploded in a glory of light and heat and power. As the creature that was both her and not-her tore him into atoms, all was revealed. Through his agony he saw himself for what he was; a speck of dust adrift in endless night. It was not his destiny to rule. Nor was it hers. It was her destiny to destroy.

En Sabah Nur disintegrated into the universe.


End file.
